Significant
by LilyGinnyBlack
Summary: A smile is curling his lips now. His hand reaching out for me, and without even glancing at the other females he simply says, “I want her.” He takes me. A one-shot that examines just how and why Tom Riddle killed that lady of the night for his horcrux.


_**Significant**_

_**By:**__**LilyGinnyBlack**_

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, not the characters, nothing, not even the concept, since the prostitute was mentioned in the book as well. I just gave her a personality and story. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

_**A/N: Where this came from, I have no idea. It just popped into my head. I was just thinking about why Voldemort would have used a prostitute for one of the horcruxes, and this came about…I guess. Anyway, please give it a chance and read. Though, this is not something kids should read; the concept, the setting, and the characters in general are not something younger readers should be venturing into. Now, onto the story:**_

* * *

She was old, they were young, or at least in this type of business that's what she was; an old hag, a woman who had lost her beauty, and thus her life; left to watch as the men always swept their eyes right by her. Fires igniting within those perverse depths at the sight of a female just barely of age; stupid and naïve to the pain and anguish this line of work always brought upon the soul, the way it turned honor into disgrace and purity into the darkest of taint.

Those little things who desired attention so much, simply glowing each and every time a man so much as touched their body, giggling at each and every compliment, and making each and every moan and scream so loud…so loud that all can hear them. That attention, oh how they crave it like a normal woman would long for chocolate.

But I, I don't care about that anymore; I don't need that attention to survive any longer. That spark was lost long ago, when though, I can't even remember. When did the men stop trailing their eyes over me? When did the men stop teasing with me? When did the men stop wanting me?

The moment I grew old. The moment when my eyes lost their curiosity and my body it's glow. That was the moment. And now I was insignificant. So, here now I stand, my eyes downcast (for I know this new customer will not look at me, his gaze will go right by), and yet…this feeling is slithering over my skin. The whole thing sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel myself shiver.

I'm taking the chance, maybe today would be different from the rest, and a man would look at me again. And so, my head lifts and I stare the customer down. He is a man in his fifties, I'm assuming, though something about him is making him seem more youthful than that. His skin still glows and his eyes…his eyes appear red. Though I know this cannot be, no one has blood red eyes. But to me, he does. Eyes the color of blood.

Blood, the vital liquid that keeps every human being alive, how I wish at this moment to be rid of it. To have my blood sucked dry, to just die. I have no use anymore, and I'm still wondering why they keep me here. I know for a fact that I'm not bringing any money in. But, here I am.

And here he is, gazing at me, in such a way that is making me think that he is examining every inch of me; though not in the physical sense. As if he is picking apart-no-more like roaming through all my memories, evading the best kept privacy a human being has, and is seeing the evil ponderings running wild within my head. A smile is curling his lips now. His hand reaching out for me, and without even glancing at the other females he simply says, "I want her."

He takes me.

* * *

After this, I'm going to be left for dead. That was what he told, right after we entered the room and I shut the door. A smirk was fitted to his features, and he hissed the words with an ease that I never thought would have been possible. But he did. And he knew that I didn't care, that I longed for it.

His back is to me now, rummaging through a small bag that, believe it or not, appeared out of thin air (quite literally). A dangerous chuckle escaping his lips as his body swerves around, waist twisting, to greet me with a smile, one that causes my skin to prickle. His skin is so pale, and his hair is so black, not a single strand of grey can be found despite his age. I wonder if he dyes his hair; though something about his being tells me that he doesn't.

He's holding something behind his back, "You'll love this, I'm sure of it." His words are frightening and I know not to question this fear. Whoever this man is, he is not a nice man. I'm sure others call him a bastard, a creep, a pervert…they may even call him evil. But to me, this man shall be my freedom; I welcomed him with open arms by taking his hand when he offered it to me. I gave him trust when I'm sure he doesn't deserve it, the moment that door was closed tight behind me.

I'm fairly certain I have given myself up to the devil. And though his words scare me, he himself does not.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about what I'm hiding?" His voice trails up from behind me in a whisper. I'm positive he was standing in front of me mere seconds before. How could he move so quickly?

These questions consume my mind, but I ignore them, there is no use asking them when I all I want to do is die. "Not particularly. I was under the impression that you came here to kill me. So, why don't you?" My tone is harsh with him. I want to leave this world, can't he see that? Ah, maybe he can, and that is why he is just glancing my way like that; his pupils glinting with this all knowing knowledge, not a hint of anger, just plain amusement.

"You want to die that badly?"

"Yes."

"You don't even want to see the gift I bought you."

"No."

"Oh well, too bad." He's revealing the 'gift' slowly; it's as if he is trying to build up some kind of tension that is just not there.

My patience is starting to run thin, my anger boiling up inside, "Hurry up. Just show this thing to me so I can die." The words escape through clutched teeth. And as soon as I finish, he presents me with the sight of it, and the sound affect of, "Tada!"

A diadem, sparkling and shining, even in the dull light of the room, the diamonds in it make it so my eyes cannot dare to look away. My eyelids are getting heavy, my lips are spread apart slightly for no apparent reason, and my arms are beginning to move from my side. The dead weight of each limb is almost too heavy, but I'm still reaching out, stretching to touch that glittering piece of jewelry. I've lost all control of my body now, my body shaking to simply touch. How very pathetic.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it? Don't you just want to wear it?" So far away, his words come to me from so far away.

"Of course you do." He's placing it on my head, the cool metal rests upon my brow and my head clears for a second. My skin is shimmering anew, my eyes are sparkling with a renewed inexperience, and for the moment-I am feeling that emotion of significance. I can't move; my body is too overwhelmed.

He's giving that chilling chuckle again, "There's no need for you to move. You don't have to do a thing. I'll take care of it all." He's so close now. His lips are rough upon my skin, his lips are crashing down on my own and he is giving me attention. Me and me alone.

"Why…Why are you doing this?" My mind is becoming cloudy, he's torturing me with a pleasure I haven't felt in years. "Why are you…here? Why are…you going to kill me?"

"Because," He is able to get out between harsh nips on my neck, "killing is what I do. I love it, adore it, and find comfort in it. And plus, your death will be bring me one step closer to immortality. So, I figured I might as well do one last _mortal_ thing."

His hands are roaming, touching places I've already been touched before, nothing new and nothing truly exciting. But, that diadem is still on my head and that attention…

Now he's going beyond touching, heading for that close intimacy that there are so many names for; making love, sexual intercourse, or just plain sex; of course there are so many other things to call it too. But those are all used as cover up for teenagers sneaking in giggles around their parents, or for innuendo for innuendo sake. Neither of which are acceptable for the situation that I am in.

He's being so hard with me, almost to the point of brutal, I think I feel blood. And yet, his kisses are warm and almost gentle, the contrast is becoming too great. But, I want this to last. I don't want it to end. The pleasure is eating me alive, can one die from this?

I don't know. I can't think. I don't care.

No. The wonderful feelings are disappearing. Pain. Excruciating pain. It's taking over; stinging my mind and piercing my heart. I'm screaming now, or was I always screaming, I haven't noticed. But, I'm just as loud as those girls. That I know. They can hear me. This screaming that's so hard to differentiate from one of sexual satisfaction.

Kisses. Again. His burning lips (I could have sworn that they were like ice before) are trailing up my neck as the agony continues. Pain and pleasure, they are so much alike, everyone knows that the line separating them is so thin, just like love and hate. I loved this man before, he was going to grant me my wish, give me the freedom that I so desired. He was the grim reaper, come to bring me to the afterlife. But now, now I hate him so much. Because he granted that wish that I wanted so much.

I'm dying. As a man pays that attention to me that I was lacking for years.

I'm dying. As a man causes my lungs to go sore from my screams of pain and pleasure.

I'm dying. As a man gives this insignificant life of mine…

A moment in which I can be significant, I got my wish. Now I don't want it.

I'm dying. But I don't want to be dead.

* * *

_A/N: I liked how this turned out. I've never written anything quite like this before. It was an interesting experience. Please tell me what you think of it in a review though, and take care. : D_

-LilyGinnyBlack-


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